One more kiss, and she left them alone. He thought about what she said as he and Tristan got ready for bed, and when they lay under the covers, holding each other, he once again found himself with his head on Tristan’s chest, listening to the comfortingthumpof his heart.
“She’s right, you know.”
“Who, Charlotte?” Tristan’s deep voice rumbled through him.
“Yeah. There’s no point in dwelling on could’ve and should’ve. I have moved on to a better life. I have a family in my sister, Ray, and the kids. I’m doing what I love, singing and entertaining people.” He rolled over to face Tristan and kissed him. “Best of all, I have you.”
A crease formed in Tristan’s brow. “I give you credit. I don’t think I could be in the same room with either one of my parents even if they ever did try and find me. Which I know is never going to happen.” The laughter squeezed out of him, the sound so painful to hear, it hurt Sean to the core.
“Does it bother you? Have you ever tried to find them?”
“Since no one knew who my father was, that was moot. As for my mother?” Grim-faced, Tristan gazed at nothing for a minute before answering. “She walked out on an eleven-year-old boy, leaving him with a sick, elderly woman.”
“It must’ve been so hard for you.” Sean brushed away the hair hanging in Tristan’s eyes.
“My mother was plain selfish. She hated being a mother, was only interested in having a good time, and when the moment was right, I assume she hooked up with a sucker willing to put up with her, and she left.”
“Then we’ve both moved on to a better place, I think.”
“I know.” Tristan’s lips covered his.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Monday morning meetings were the worst. Tristan hated them, but that day it was a necessity. Five million dollars’ worth of gold were coming in from a wealthy client who’d moved from London to New York City, and the gold bars were to be placed in the vault. Ray had filled him in, and had asked him to make sure his team kept it under wraps, as the client was extremely paranoid. As COO for the bank, Ray had been asked by the chairman to handle it personally, and he was waiting upstairs for Tristan’s call that the gold was delivered, so he could report back to the client.
“Gold?” Truman grumbled. “What the hell is that about?”
Tristan agreed with him. “It’s foolish, I know. But this person, whose name we aren’t privy to, is afraid of a global uprising or whatever shit they read about in the papers, so they converted a hefty portion of their portfolio into gold. Sounds like they’re one of those doomsday people.”
“They sound crazy,” Christianson stated.
He held his hands up. “Hey. Don’t ask me. I’m just the messenger. What I do know is, they’re very, very,verywealthy, and we just say ‘How high?’ when they ask us to jump.”
“Must be nice.” Owens speculated. “But we’ll do what we do.”
Christianson scowled. “Waste of our time.”
Ever since he’d had to write Christianson up for flirting with the courier instead of working, there’d been a rift between them. Plus, several times he’d seen him hanging around the tellers, trying to chat. Christianson was one of those people who thought more with his mouth than his brain.
Tristan narrowed his eyes. “I think I’ll be the one to decide what’s a waste of our time.” Christianson flushed and studied the floor while Tristan continued. “Christianson, you and Delman will meet the couriers outside. Jackson and Martinez will cover you. Owens, you and Truman will meet the couriers at the door and accept the gold, and then all of us will walk it into the bank and to the secured vault area.”
His team, Christianson included, gave their verbal agreements and he finished the check-off for the rest of the day. “All right. I’ll be getting a text from the armored car service when they’re about to arrive. I’ll let you all know over the radio. Make sure you’re on the secure channel.” He motioned to Owens. “Hold up a moment.”
Everyone else filed out, leaving them alone. “How’s it going with your modified schedule? No more worries about going to therapy with your son, correct?”
“Yes, it’s been life-changing.” Relief softened the lines in her face. “Thank you so much. You have no idea what a load off my mind it’s been.”
“It’s all good. I’ll see you when the couriers arrive.”
“Roger that.”
He smiled to himself and watched her leave, then decided to walk the floor before checking the vault area. It all looked secure, and he returned to his office. He checked on his phone the schedule he’d set up to see where Sean was performing that day, and noted with approval it was on the Upper West Side by the senior center. Singing for those people always put Sean in a good mood because some of them had no visitors other than seeing him, and they were so appreciative. He never accepted any money from the seniors, and they’d occasionally invite him to perform inside the center.
His phone buzzed with a text from the courier company that they were ten minutes out. A delivery of so much gold was sure to have started chatter in some circles, and his nerves buzzed with the kind of excitement he used to reserve for busts. Call it intuition or a sixth sense, but he unlocked the safe in his office and slid the Sig into his hip holster. Normally he didn’t carry a weapon, but this wasn’t a normal day.
He touched his earpiece. “Couriers are almost here. Prepare for arrival.”
“Copy,” each of his team responded.
